The Devil's Irish?
by bandogurl
Summary: Morton does s'more hallucinating even AFTER he's killed everybody and their brother. But what happens when his best friend from WAY back comes to visit for a breather from her fiance? COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any 'Secret Window" characters. They all belong to Stephen King and the writers of the movie, thank you very much. I shall put them back where I found them when I am finished with them.  
  
The Devil is Irish?  
  
"Morton?" the door was wide open so she walked in. "Mort? Where are you? It's me, Ciara." Ciara looked around the room. The word "shooter" was carved everywhere and far too many times than she'd care to count. Hearing a floorboard creak, she began climbing the stairs. "Mort? Are you up there?" she called. At the top of the stairs, she turned to her right and saw to the left of the bedroom door, the carved word "shoot" and on the door "her." She slowly walked to the door. "Mort? Are you in there?"  
  
As she reached for the door handle, the door burst open and Morton Reiney ran out at her, a crazed look on his face. He shoved her against the wall and shouted, "Damn you, Ciara!"  
  
"What did I do, Mort?" she asked calmly. "Was it really me?"  
  
"No..." he sank to the floor and hugged her knees. "It wasn't you..."  
  
Ciara walked over to his chair and sat. Morton buried his face in her lap. "Tell me what happened..."  
  
She stroked his hair gently as he told her everything that happened ever since he confirmed his suspicions that his wife had been cheating on him. Ciara's green eyes glowed eerily whenever he mentioned a death of any kind. "'Ara, what's wrong with me?" he asked as his story drew to a close.  
  
Ciara lifted his head and looked into his eyes and said calmly and firmly, "Nothing's wrong with you. Besides split personality disorder thrown into the mix with insanity and criminal tendencies. But don't worry, everything's fine... Now."  
  
~*~  
  
Ciara stood in the shadows as the sheriff spoke to Morton about what happened the few days before.  
  
"What's more important is the ending. That's the most important part," Mort said seriously, having completely forgotten his entire ordeal.  
  
The sheriff sighed in exasperation and left.  
  
Ciara walked over and began massaging his shoulders, muttering, "Keep going, Mort. Don't stop writing. You've sold your soul to the devil so you could finish writing your masterpieces... You don't want to make her angry. She's Irish, so she's prone to anger."  
  
"The devil's Irish?" Mort asked then turned to look at her. "You're Irish?" 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One:  
  
The clock struck one am. And the alarm went off.  
  
Groaning, Danny rolled over and threw the clock against the far wall. Returning to her original position, Danny cuddled up against Glenn and attempted to go back to sleep. Glenn would have none of it, though. "Get out of bed and go to work, Danny," he grumbled, sleepily.  
  
"No," she mumbled into their pillow.  
  
Then it began. It always started with the quiet knocking. After a while, the knocking escalated into pounding that shook the trailer. Tired of listening to the pounding, Glenn climbed out of bed and picked Danny up. The trailer door opened as he approached it with her—kicking—slung over his shoulder. "Here you go, Robert," he said, passing the still struggling Danny to the stuntman. "Have fun at work, Danny." Yawning, he locked the door and went back to bed.  
  
Robert carried Danny to the training room. She had given up on kicking and resolved herself to being slung over his shoulder. When they arrived at the training room, Robert put her down and said, "Suit up. Don't want any trouble. Go."  
  
Danny, now much more awake, walked over to her locker and opened it. She quickly changed out of her pajamas and into her uniform—black Capri pants, black spaghetti strap shirt and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She put her wrist brace on her right wrist, strapping it tightly to prevent carpel tunnel. After two seconds of searching, she found her fencing foil and walked, barefoot, onto the training floor and waited, looking over her reflection in the many mirrors that lined the walls with a critical eye.  
  
Danny wasn't too hideous, she thought. She was about five foot nine with long, light brown hair and bright blue eyes. Hers was a slightly pointed nose with a few freckles—six, never more, never less. She had a lean, fit form due to the many hours she trained a day so she would be prepared for anything at work. The only thing that bugged her about herself was the osteoarthritis in her left knee, causing it to swell when it was aggravated. Robert came back then. He was a hulking creature, standing at a towering six foot eleven. His accent suggested he was from Utah, but he claimed to be from California. He was a good Mormon boy-type and Danny liked him well enough to trust him with her life. His sandy-blonde hair tended to fall into his green eyes when he trained her, causing her to want to snog him right then and there, but she always reminded herself of Glenn and how devastated he would be if she turned her back on him. "Ready?" he asked, spinning his foil once in his left hand. He was a lefty, which provided Danny with a perfect challenge—she was sick of winning so easily.  
  
"Always ready, Robbie," she said, smiling and spinning her own foil. "Always ready to take you down."  
  
He smiled and said, "En garde."  
  
They moved into their respected ready positions. Another trainer called the mark and they began dueling ruthlessly. Though Robert was her better, Danny was getting very close to finally destroying him despite the fact her brace made it difficult for her to move her wrist for certain moves. Robert wasn't holding back; he never did. He knew that she would be offended if he ever held back when battling her. In truth, he was slightly afraid of what would happen if he ever did. She would probably slaughter him; she was that good.  
  
As Danny was gaining the upper hand, after four hours of intense battle, an old friend entered the training room and caught her eyes unintentionally. He just wanted to see her and watch her train, hoping to find inspiration for his next book. His prescience distracted Danny and Robert was able to unarm her and knock her to the floor.  
  
"I win," he said, but she wasn't paying attention to him. "What—"  
  
Danny scrambled to her feet and ran over to her friend. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a hug and asked, "What's your story, Morning Glory?" He stepped back to examine her. During her battle with Robert, Danny had lost her ponytail elastic and her hair fell messily over her shoulders.  
  
She smiled at her friend and gave him a quick cross-examination of her own. He was still taller than her and his hair was still on the longish side. But the color was a little lighter. His brown eyes seemed solemn, almost grave. And he wore—"When'd you get braces?" she asked him.  
  
"Last month," he answered. "Had to get a few things straightened out."  
  
"Gotcha..." She hoped it was more than just his teeth he was straightened out. At the beginning of the previous month, she had received a phone call from the sheriff of the small town in New York her lived outside of. The news he gave her of suspicions against him frightened her and she didn't want to believe it was true, but she had to know what had happened...  
  
Robert approached them, wary of this nameless man that he had never met. "Danny, we have to get back to work or you'll never improve," he said.  
  
"Robert, how often do I ever get to actually hang out with my friends and have fun?" Danny countered. "Once every blue moon, that's how often. We train everyday and we haven't even started shooting the film."  
  
"Danny, we start next week," Robert said.  
  
"I know that, but—"  
  
"Danielle!" a voice rang through the training room, making Danny cringe at the sound of her full name.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Wen?" she asked, turning to the person who spoke.  
  
He was a middle aged man who smoked too much, took too many medications, and was, unfortunately, the casting agent for the movie and the one who could hire or fire you in a blink of an eye. "Danielle, I have good news and I have bad news."  
  
"Good news first," she said promptly.  
  
"You are just the sort of talent we're looking for in the villainess," Mr. Wen said.  
  
"And the bad news?"  
  
"You're not the villainess in this movie," he said, eyeing the foil in her hand cautiously. "I'm afraid you're fired as of right now."  
  
Instead of flying into a fit of rage as he expected she would, Danny smiled happily and said, "Now I have all the time I want to talk to Mort. Thank you, Mr. Wen. Robert, I'm afraid with me being fired, I don't need to train with you anymore. Good bye."  
  
She quickly emptied her locker and left the training room with Mort tailing her. "I hope I wasn't the one who got you fired, Danny. You know I don't want to be any inconvenience to you."  
  
"I know, Mort," she said. "It's not your fault; it's mine. They wanted me to get up at one in the morning for training and you know I'm not a morning person..." They reached the trailer and she opened the door and they entered. "Glenn? Are you up yet? I have someone I want you to meet."  
  
He entered the kitchen area, fully dressed and groomed, and looked at Mort. "Hello," he said uncertainly.  
  
"Glenn, this is my best friend, Morton Reiny," Danny said, her voice cheerful. "Morton, this is Glenn Wood, my fiancé."  
  
The two men shook hands, but with icy expressions on their faces. Danny pretended not to notice and began chattering happily about this and that as Glenn and Morton sized each other up. Glenn was six foot one, with short black hair and hazel eyes. He was well built and large in physique. Morton, on the other hand, was only five foot ten with the build of a nerdy bookworm—which he was; only he wrote the books the worms read.  
  
"Oh, Glenn, dearest, I've been fired," Danny said casually.  
  
"You were—what?" Glen couldn't believe what he was hearing. Morton took the opportunity to shrink back into a corner to watch, still looking for his inspiration. "How could you be fired? What'd you do?"  
  
"Nothing," she said, busying herself with something. "Mr. Wen just walked up to me today and said they were letting me go."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Look, Glenn," she turned to face him, "I don't care that I've been fired. I hated working with them and you know it!"  
  
Glenn didn't respond. Danny could see the gears in his head working, trying to think of something to say or do that could help her get her job back. Unable to say anything, he stormed out of the trailer and slammed the door behind him, rocking the RV. Danny turned to Morton and said, "Well, that went well."  
  
"That went well?"  
  
"Think about it: He's twice my size and three times my strength. He could crush me like a twig if he wanted to and he didn't," Danny began washing the dishes. "He did all he could to get me hired in the first place because he didn't think writing was any future for me. I kept telling him, 'look at what Morton's done. I could do the same.' But he never listened, though he's read all your books at least once. Don't give me that 'I-don't- believe-you Look. What's true is true and you know it, Mort."  
  
"He doesn't seem to like me very much."  
  
"He doesn't know you," she guessed. "That, and he's really over protective, so he's probably afraid you're going to steal me away from him."  
  
Morton began helping her with the dishes. "I could..."  
  
"Don't. I don't want to have to pick up the bits and pieces that used to be you," she said, smiling at the thought of going away with Mort. Danny did love Glenn, but at times he was far too overbearing and she wanted to be able to breathe every once and a while. Morton always gave her the space she needed and was always close when she needed him. Not matter how much she loved Glenn, she still loved Morton much more, but in a different sort of way since he had been her best friend for so long. "But I'm not saying it wouldn't be nice living in that cottage you've got down by the lake, though. Heaven knows I love that place." She sighed and stared into space, thinking about the cottage. "It'd be an awfully mean trick of you stole me for a week..."  
  
"Do you want me to?" Morton asked, hoping she'd say yes.  
  
She shook her head. "No, it'd be too mean. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it every so often, but..." She hastily put all the clean dishes in the cupboard, trying to keep her mind off the subject.  
  
Morton put the plates away and asked, "Danny, do you love him?"  
  
Needless to say, she was on the side of shocked. Putting the dishtowel away, she said, "Of course I do, Mort!" She got out the basket of laundry and began folding it.  
  
He leaned against the refrigerator and said, "No. I mean do you truly love him. Could you spend the rest of your life happily married to him? Seeing him everyday for the rest of your life?"  
  
Danny stopped in the middle of hunting for the match of her grey kitten sock. "Morton, how could you say that?" she asked softly. "Why are you saying that?"  
  
He shrugged. "I'm only looking out for you. Remember, my marriage didn't end well."  
  
"Whatever happened to Amy, anyways, Mort? Do you know?" Danny asked, hoping to clarify the fog that was surrounding him at the moment. She realized that since they had been out of touch for so long, she didn't know much about his life at the moment. All she knew was what the sheriff had told her and it wasn't a comforting thought.  
  
"I'm not sure... I guess she married Ted and moved away or something," he answered. "I haven't seen them for a while."  
  
Then Glenn entered the trailer and the two fell quiet. "I tried getting your job back, but it wasn't any use. They're hell-bent on keeping you out of the film. I guess you can sleep in until whenever you want and you can write to your heart's delight now, huh?" he said a sour note in his voice.  
  
"You know, Glenn, I was thinking," Danny said, ignoring the quiet "oh, no" from her fiancé. "Since I've been fired and you're still working on the movie, maybe I could go on a vacation until you're done and I could have a quiet place where I could write 'to my heart's delight.' What do you think?"  
  
Glenn thought for a moment, said, "Go ahead," and walked out of the RV once more.  
  
Excited, Danny hugged Morton tightly. As they embraced, Morton whispered, "Come hide away with me, Danny..." 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:  
  
Danny answered the door while still brushing her teeth the first morning she was at Morton's cottage. "Hello, sheriff," she said out of the side of her mouth. "Morton's running some errands for me. Can I have him call you when he gets home?" She continued to brush furiously.  
  
"Actually, I came to see you," he said.  
  
"Oh," she let him in and led him to the kitchen where she spat a great dollop of toothpaste lather into the kitchen sink drain. "What do you need?" She rinsed her toothbrush as she waited for him to speak.  
  
"I just want you to understand the seriousness of what you have done," he said solemnly as though she had been caught shoplifting and he was letting her go with a warning,  
  
"Enlighten me," she said as she began loading the dishwasher.  
  
"We have information that he has murdered four people. All we need are the bodies and irresputeable evidence before we can lock him up," the sheriff said.  
  
"Big Foot's had witnesses, but it doesn't mean he exists," Danny said, starting the wash cycle for the dishes.  
  
"Four people are dead, Danielle," he said, shocked by her reaction—or lack, thereof. "He put a screwdriver through his dog's head!"  
  
"Yeah, I know where Chico is, sheriff," Danny said, turning to him. She escorted him to the window and pointed. "Right there, beneath the path. Now, until you do find the bodies and the irresputeable proof he really did murder those poor people, I'll be staying here. All right?"  
  
"Sure," the sheriff said, making his way to the front door. As he walked out, Danny distinctly heard him mutter, "It's your funeral."  
  
Danny shrugged and locked the door behind him. After turning on the stereo, she flopped onto the couch, removed the Slinky ( from under her leg, pulled her laptop onto her lap and began typing...  
  
"How does the mind of a person suffering from split-personality disorder, insanity and criminal tendencies function? Your guess is as good as mine, I suppose. But pretend for just a moment, that such a person lived in your neighborhood... On your street... In the house next door... In your house...  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?  
  
"I know I would.  
  
"Actually, I do know... Now...  
  
"And believe me, it's not fun..."  
  
"These things are meant to try—"Galinda (on the CD) was cut off by a fierce pounding on the door. Sighing, Danny put her laptop on the coffee table and answered the door. Morton pushed past her and set some bags on the kitchen table. She pressed pause and helped him put the groceries away.  
  
"How can you listen to that stuff? I thought you wanted to work in someplace quiet," he said as Danny folded the paper bags for recycling.  
  
"You obviously have forgotten my definition of a quiet place," she said, smiling.  
  
"Well, then?"  
  
"A quiet place: (noun) an isolated location fit for one to two people to live and work comfortably, where they are allowed to listen to the 'Wicked' soundtrack for as long as they want, as loud as they want."  
  
"I see you haven't changed much," Morton said, climbing the stairs to his study. "Just turn it down a little, okay?"  
  
"Poor Galinda..."  
  
And so their routine began. Danny would take her shower before breakfast, sleep in the bed and write in the living room. Morton, on the other hand, would take his shower after dinner, sleep on the couch, and work in the study. Every two days, they would switch. They took turns making meals and vacuuming since Morton had fired the cleaning lady the day the sheriff had visited Danny.  
  
One day, after Danny had been living with Morton for almost two weeks, he came home from the general store and said, "Glenn's in town."  
  
Danny didn't look up from her typing. "Is he now? Is he staying at the Hotel—"  
  
"Yes," Morton cut her off. Apparently, he still felt a little touchy about his wife cheating on him with Ted there. "I invited him for dinner tonight."  
  
"You do know it's your night to cook, right?" Danny asked, checking her spelling and finding half of what she wrote that day to be misspelled. Quietly growling, she succumbed to the will of the Paper Clip.  
  
"He'll be over at seven. Be ready..."  
  
~*~  
  
Conversation over dinner was far and few between as well as forced. Right after she set out desert, Danny excused herself to the bedroom to escape the tension that was building over the table. Danny left the bedroom door open as she passed through to the bathroom to wash her face. As she was drying, she felt a breeze blow about her and a harsher wind blew in her ear. She closed the window and the men's voices drifted up the stairs.  
  
"I'm warning you, Reiny," Glenn said. "If you do anything—"  
  
"I've already been down that road, pilgrim," Morton interrupted. "You'll have no worries from me."  
  
"I don't know you, so I don't trust you," Glenn said curtly. "And I don't trust her, either."  
  
Danny heard a chair scrape. "Then why in hell are you marrying her?" Mort demanded loudly. "Don't you understand that marriage is based wholly on trust?" He hit the table as he spoke. "How would you be able to go to work without trusting her?"  
  
Danny sat at the top of the stairs, wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned against the wall. She noticed there was a carved word at the baseboard, but she took no stock in it. She returned her attention back to the conversation in the kitchen.  
  
"Why am I marrying her? Why am I marrying her?" Glenn said, outraged. Danny heard another chair fall over with a loud thud. "Because I love her, idiot! Why else would I marry her?"  
  
Mort walked into the living room, then back into the kitchen without noticing Danny. "Love is founded in trust! How can you marry her—let alone love her—if you can't trust her?" he demanded of Glenn. There was no response. After a brief silence, Morton said, "She trusts you and she honors your relationship... I know she's a carefree girl. Just... just give her a chance, would ya?"  
  
Morton walked back into the living room. Danny sniffed and he looked up at her. "Danny..." he began, seeing she was quietly crying. He started up the stairs, but before he was even halfway to her, she stood, entered the bedroom and locked the door.  
  
Glenn walked out of the kitchen after putting his dishes in the sink. "Where is she?"  
  
Morton pointed to the locked door. "I don't recommend talking to her right now. Try in the morning," he said.  
  
Glenn rolled his eyes then stormed out. Morton finished climbing the stairs, knocked on the bedroom door and called, "Danny? Are you all right in there?" There was no answer. "Danny? Danny, can you hear me?" Still no answer. Starting to worry, Morton retrieved the key from atop the doorframe and unlocked the door. He tried opening it, but something was blocking the way. He shoved the door open and saw Danny had pushed the dresser against it. "Danny, where are you?" She wasn't in the bedroom, but the bathroom door was unusually closed. Morton knocked and opened the door. He found her sitting in the shower, still crying. "C'mon, Danny. Let's get you outta there." Morton held out his hand. She wiped her tears away and took it.  
  
He helped her out of the shower and into the bedroom. Danny immediately sat on the bed and curled into the fetal position. Morton sat next to her and asked, "What's making you cry, Morning Glory?"  
  
He had used his long-time nickname for her. Danny liked hearing it again; she missed it. She smiled a little and said, "I don't like listening to you two fight. Makes me feel like I did something terrible. I didn't, did I?"  
  
"No, of course not," he told her. "It's not your fault if Glenn doesn't know and appreciate what he's got."  
  
The power went out and they were thrust into darkness. "Um... yeah, darkness... What happened?" Danny asked, sitting up.  
  
"Dunno," Morton muttered. "We're not really in a residential area so it happens every once in a while." Danny felt him shift into a laying position. "What time is it?" he asked.  
  
Danny flopped down beside him, "You have a watch, use it," she said, yawning.  
  
"It doesn't glow in the dark."  
  
"Mine doesn't either. It's Frodo, remember?" She pulled out her cell phone and checked the time. "It's 9:31," she yawned. Quietly, she hummed "Johnny One Note."  
  
Morton absently stroked her hair and asked, "What's that?"  
  
"Johnny One Note," she answered. "It was in your senior play if you had auditioned for it."  
  
"What was your senior play?"  
  
"Bye, Bye, Birdie," Danny hummed a few bars from the main title. "Why? Did you forget, even though it was only two years after your own?"  
  
"No... You were Ursula, right?" he asked, tickling her forearm gently. "That's where I got 'Morning Glory' from? Or am I mistaken?"  
  
"No, you're right... 'What's the story, Morning Glory? What's the tale, Nightingale? Did you hear about Hugo and Kim?'" she sang softly. Danny stretched out into a more comfortable position that included cuddling closer to Morton.  
  
He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "If we both just fall asleep right now, would that be considered you cheating on Glenn?"  
  
"I don't think so... We'd be actually sleeping and it's not like we're going to do anything more than that if we do fall asleep... Right?" she said quietly, falling asleep, comfortable in his arms.  
  
"I suppose so..."  
  
They gradually fell into sleep and didn't wake until morning when the phone rang loudly and shrilly at 10:03. Danny groped for the receiver and answered, "Hello? This is she. May I ask who's calling? I see..." She listened for a few moments, and then fell into a dead faint.  
  
Morton took the receiver out of her limp hand and said, "Hello?"  
  
The voice on the other end sounded like the sheriff, but Mort was so tired, he wasn't sure who it was. "Mr. Reiny, we're very sorry to disturb the two of you while you work, but this is important."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Mr. Glenn Wood was murdered in his hotel room last night. We need the two of you to come over as soon as she wakes up again." 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:  
  
Danny felt like hurling as she sat next to Morton in the hotel room where the police found Glenn's body. She couldn't stand being there. Especially when she could clearly see the drops of blood the weapon had left behind.  
  
"We are still looking for the murder weapon," the sheriff said. "The wounds on the body suggest some sort of thick, quarter inch knife. But we've yet to find one that fits that description even in the general store."  
  
Morton glanced at Danny and saw how pale she was. "Sheriff, I wonder if would be all right if she left the room for a few minutes while I talk to you."  
  
"Oh, right. Sure."  
  
Danny stood and left quickly. Once in the fresh air of the parking lot, she sat on the curb and tried not to puke. Her head was reeling and she desperately needed to take a nap to stop her headache. She took two Advil as a woman walked up to her.  
  
The woman had long, fiery red hair that flowed freely down her back. Her brilliantly green eyes were bright with a cryptic laughter. She wore a long, fitted black dress, with long and fitted sleeves ending with black gloves despite the warmth of the weather. Her dress had a high collar that concealed her throat and neck. Around her neck was a strange amulet with runic markings carved on it. She stopped in front of Danny and asked with a thick Irish accent, "What's the matter, lassie? You look as though someone walked right over your grave and dug in their heel as they paced your stomach."  
  
Danny took a deep, struggling breath, and said, "That's one way to put it. Someone murdered my fiancé last night." She found it increasingly difficult to breathe now that this woman was present.  
  
"Aye, I heard about that. I'm sorry about your loss," the Irish woman said, though her honesty didn't reach her eyes. "What's your name, lass?"  
  
"Danny Tomlin," Danny answered. "Yours?"  
  
"Ciara. Ciara Wirewood," the woman said, smiling mysteriously, making Danny's blood chill  
  
In the hotel room, Morton and the sheriff were discussing the murder:  
  
"Reiny, there's some suspicion that you may be behind the murder," the sheriff said, looking at Mort seriously. "People know you don't like Glenn—"  
  
"Didn't. He's dead, use past tense," Morton interrupted.  
  
"Didn't like Glenn. And they know how you feel about Danny. Like the other four murders, all we need is undeniable evidence you did it," the sheriff said, noticing Morton was looking around the room with great distaste.  
  
Mort looked at the sheriff in front of the open window. "What if you can't prove it was me who killed him? What if it was Danny? Or someone else? And I still have no idea what you're talking about. What other four murders?" he said, shifting his gaze slightly.  
  
The sheriff sighed, "Amy, Ted—Where are you going?"  
  
Morton was no longer listening to him, but was leaving the hotel room, his eyes clamped on Danny and Ciara talking outside. He approached them and asked, "Ciara, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to see what the trouble was, Mort," she said, pleasantly. "And I'm glad I came, I got to finally meet Danny. Now I see why you care so much about her."  
  
He took Ciara's arm and led her a little ways away from Danny so she couldn't hear what they were saying. "What do you want with her?" he asked the devil, seriously worried about his best friend.  
  
"Nothing whatsoever," the devil answered, lightly taking his hand off her. "Unless you want me to have something for her to do. Do you?"  
  
"No. Leave her alone."  
  
Ciara smiled. "Fine. We'll just be friends, then." She laughed. "Think of it! A good little girl like Danny being friends with the devil? That'll go over well up There," she said, pointing skyward. "What do you think He'll say about it?"  
  
She walked back to Danny, leaving Mort where he was, and said, "Well, I must be off. Danny, I hope we get to know each other very well. Morton ha my number." Still smiling creepily, she left.  
  
Danny stood and walked over to Morton. "Who was that? She a friend of yours?"  
  
"Yes... Let's go home, you look tired," he said.  
  
~*~  
  
At Glenn's funeral, Danny stood before the small congregation and, crying, sang:  
  
I've heard it said That people come into our lives For a reason. Bringing something we must learn, And we are lent to use, To help us most to grow If we let them. If we help them in return... Well, I don't know if I believe that's true, But I know I'm who I am today, Because I knew you. Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes the sun, Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood... Who can say if I've been changed for the better? Because I knew you, I have been changed for good... It well may be, That we will never meet again In this lifetime. So let me say before we part, So much of me Is made from what I learned from you, You'll be with me Like a handprint on my heart... And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine By being my friend... Like a ship blown from its mooring By a wind off the sea, Like a seed dropped by a sky bird In a distant world... Who can say if I've been changed for the better? Because I knew you, Because I knew you, I have been changed for good... And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness For the things I've done you blame me for... But then, I guess, we know that there's blame to share. And none of it seems to matter anymore! Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes the sun, Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood, Who can say if I've been changed for the better? I do believe I have been changed for the better. Because I knew you, Because I knew you, Because I knew you, I have been changed For good... After the funeral, she stood, silent, by the grave and read what was written on the headstone:  
  
"Glenn Wood Move on, be brave Don't weep at my grave Because I am no longer here But please never let Your memory of me disappear."  
  
She smiled sadly as Morton walked over to her. They stood fro several minutes at the grave without saying a word. Danny ran her fingers across the top of the stone and said, "He kept saying, 'write this on my grave if I go before you do, Danny. Write this...' I kept reminding him to not think of such things... But look what good it did him. He did go before I did and I did write on his stone... I feel horrible. Like it's my fault he was murdered..." She broke down in fresh tears.  
  
Morton pulled her into a hug and said, "C'mon, Danny, it's not your fault. How could it be your fault? There, there. Stop crying. It's not your fault..." He looked across the cemetery and saw Ciara standing by another grave, looking grimly happy. Her eyes were sparkling eerily. Morton didn't know why she was there, but he wanted her to leave. Unfortunately, he didn't have the power or position to make her do that.  
  
Danny sniffed and wiped her tears, saying, "You're right... You're—you're right, Morton..." She kissed him on the cheek and started walking away.  
  
"Wait—where're you going?" he called after her.  
  
"Home. See you later."  
  
Ciara walked over to Morton and said, "Sad day, inn't it?"  
  
"Go to hell, Ciara."  
  
"Oh, I've been there, thank you. I find it a rather pleasant place to live," she said icily.  
  
Morton's scream could be heard across the cemetery, but Danny was already in her car and didn't hear it... 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four:  
  
Danny was furiously typing her thoughts and feelings of what had happened over the past few days when Morton finally came home from the funeral. She glanced over at him as he closed the door, then did a double take when he turned around and fell against the couch. Danny rushed over to his side and turned him onto his back and asked, "Morton, what happened?" He was covered in what looked like knife wounds and burns.  
  
"Danny..." he reached up for her. She took his hand and said, "I'm here, Mort. Tell me what happened."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't remember..." He sighed quietly and passed into unconsciousness.  
  
It took her a while, but Danny carefully carried Morton up the stairs and into the bedroom where she laid him on the bed. She tenderly and patiently treated his wounds and bandaged his head where the deepest cut was located. Every time she dressed a cut or burn with ointment, he flinched in pain horribly. Danny wanted so much to wake him up and pry how this happened out of him, but she knew if she did, he wouldn't heal as quickly as he would if she just left him alone.  
  
Morton woke up a few days later to find her sitting by his side, her face in her folded arms, asleep on the edge of the bed. He gently touched her unwashed hair and could see she had been by his side while he was out of it. Danny woke up at the feel of his touch.  
  
"Oh, you're awake! I was starting to get worried," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "I thought I might lose you, too."  
  
He lightly ran a finger down her cheek and said, "You'll never lose me, Danny. I promised I'll always be there for you and I will. You don't have to worry about it."  
  
Danny broke down in tears, threw herself on him and sobbed into his shoulder. Morton cradled her as she cried harshly for about a half-hour.  
  
~*~  
  
Morton made a full recovery under Danny's watchful care. She never let him out of her sight for more than twenty minutes at a time.  
  
He would constantly glance out the window and see Ciara standing outside it, glaring Hell's Daggers at him. She scared him out of his wits since it was she who massacred him. He wanted to tell Danny everything about Ciara but he knew he couldn't. The devil would either kill Danny or try to get her to sell her soul and he couldn't allow his love to suffer the woes he did.  
  
Then one day, as he neared the first time Danny would let him out of her sight and out of bed, Ciara appeared at his bedside. "So..." she said, her voice sending chills down his spine. "Danny cares so much about you that she would stay by your side all through your dilemma. Interesting... Very interesting."  
  
"What do you want with her?" Morton demanded.  
  
She traced a pattern on his exposed forearm. "Nothing..." Then she glared at him with all Hell's Evil behind her eyes. "Get her out. Now."  
  
"Get her out of where?"  
  
"Your life. Get her out..." she walked over to the open window that allowed a cool breeze to drift through. "Or I will." 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five:  
  
A year had passed since Glenn's murder. Nothing unusual had happened to Morton and Danny save the occasional visit from the sheriff making sure she was all right. Mort and Danny lived together in happy harmony, forgetting about Glenn entirely as time passed on. There were thankfully no visits from Ciara that year either.  
  
Morton believed his life was finally coming together one day as he made his way to the town jewelers. He hummed a few bars of "As Long As You're Mine" as he looked at the different diamond encrusted rings. There was a particular ring he wanted—a simple, silver band with a small, solitary diamond, size 7 ½. Before long, he found it and made his purchase.  
  
The man behind the counter asked, "Big night tonight?"  
  
Morton smiled and said, "Yesh." The man gave him the ring box and said, "Good luck."  
  
"Thank you," Mort said, happily exiting the jeweler, and headed home. There was a spring in his step as he got out of his car and headed towards the front porch. By the absence of Danny's Camry, he knew she was still at rehearsal for the local production of "Wicked." (When Danny had gotten the phone call saying she was cast as Elphaba—the lead and her favourite character—she was so excited, she kissed Morton and danced around the cabin for a good three hours.) Morton ran into the cabin and started dinner even though it was her night to cook.  
  
He tidied up the cabin with lightning speed and even vacuumed before the oven was warm enough. Carefully, he made dinner, hoping for the closets thing to perfection in his try at Irish BLTs (her favourite) and Mertinelli's. Checking the time, he slid the tray of French bread into the oven and raced upstairs to change his clothes. Just as he was setting the table, she walked in and literally gasped.  
  
"Wha-what happened? Who cleaned the cabin?" she asked, dropping her bag onto the couch. Then she noticed the enticing aroma of dinner wafting through the kitchen doorway. Danny entered the kitchen and her eyes grew wide with surprise. Smiling broadly, she walked over to Morton, kissed him and said, "Oh, my god! Look at you! What's so special tonight?"  
  
"You are," he kissed her and turned her towards the living room. "Now, as much as I love you in your dancewear, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when I look so good and you're all sweaty. Go upstairs and change."  
  
Danny smiled and, grabbing her bag, dashed upstairs. No more than five minutes later, she came back down. Having ditched her black leotard with an embroidered shamrock on the sleeve and black pajama pants that had "Just Step" printed in green across the seat for what she affectionately called her "Wood Nymph Outfit"—a knee-length black skirt, brown peasant blouse and bare feet with her hair done up Heidi-style—she looked absolutely gorgeous. She had even re-done her make-up. Danny was the only actress Morton had heard of who could do a complete transformation/quick-change including new hairstyle and make-up in five minutes or less. He was shocked when she came down so soon. Especially when he expected her to take at least twenty minutes just to pick out an outfit.  
  
They ate dinner in relative silence with the occasional, "Morton, this is delicious..." Just before he got out the second bottle of Martinelli's, Morton said, "Danny, I have a question to ask you. Do you mind?"  
  
A look of concern crossed her face briefly. "No, of course not. What is it?"  
  
He didn't say anything at first, but walked over to her chair, knelt and took her hand. "Danny, I know this will seem sudden. And I know we haven't really defined our relationship, but..."  
  
Short of breath because of slight disbelief, Danny asked, "But, what, Mort?"  
  
He pulled out the ring box from his pocket and, handing it to her, asked, "Will you marry me?"  
  
Danny opened the box, saw the simple ring she always wanted and tears came to her eyes. "Of course, I'll marry you!" She threw her arms around him and kissed him for all it's worth. She fell out of her chair, but she didn't really notice it since she was so happy.  
  
At about ten o'clock, the two of them were having a slightly corporal discussion when the front door slammed open. They looked over, confused, to see who had come to call since they hadn't expected any company at all that night.  
  
In the doorway stood a furious Ciara. She stalked over to them, took hold of Morton by the upper arm and dragged him outside. When Danny moved to follow, the door slammed shut in her face, seemingly of its own accord. Try as she might, Danny couldn't get the door unlocked or open.  
  
Outside, Ciara slapped Morton across the face and demanded, "What do you think you are doing? Do you know what this means?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, spitting blood out onto the dirt path from the driveway.  
  
She slapped him again. Harder, this time. "This marriage will destroy everything! Do you not remember our agreement when you gave your soul?"  
  
Morton glared at her. "What are you talking about, Ciara?"  
  
"'Of mortal and stolen soul There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'"  
  
Morton stared at her, incredulous. "I have never heard that before," he said, noting the front door was shaking from Danny's efforts to open it.  
  
"You must abolish this engagement," she said, fire in her eyes.  
  
He glared at her and defiantly said, "No."  
  
Ciara stared him down and said, "Either you call off the engagement... Or deliver her soul to me." As soon as she disappeared, Danny was able to open the door and dart over to Morton.  
  
"Mort, what was that about?" she asked, genuinely confused without even the tinniest hint of jealously—another reason why he loved her.  
  
"Danny, I need to talk to you about Ciara..."  
  
~*~  
  
Danny said nothing as Morton explained his arrangement with Ciara. She only nodded when she understood, but shook her head when she didn't so he could explain. When he finished, she slowly said, "So, you sold your soul to Ciara—the devil—so you could continue writing as long as you have something to write about and the arrangement helped you through whatever the sheriff keeps referring to? Why would you do that?"  
  
"Because I was blinded by two loves—the love of writing and love of Amy. I felt if I lost one, I wouldn't be able to continue living without assurance that the other would always be present," he explained, great sadness in his eyes. "So when Amy cheated with Ted, I turned back to Ciara and she became my muse so I could write. But now that we're together, I've found another muse and I don't want anything to do with Ciara. Unfortunately—"  
  
"That's impossible," Danny finished for him. "I thought you had more sense than this, Morton! Honestly, have my own dealings with Hell taught you nothing?"  
  
"I hardly think attempts at witchcraft to be—"  
  
"Where do you think the magic comes from? It sure ain't commin' from Heaven," she said, interrupting him. She took his hand in hers and said quietly, "Look, I'm not here to condemn, though I know that's what it sounds like... What can I do to help?"  
  
The next morning, Ciara called for breakfast. Danny welcomed her openly and the two sat down at the kitchen table. The devil looked at Danny inquisitively and said, "Tell me, Danny, has Morton told you about our little relationship?"  
  
"He has."  
  
Ciara was slightly surprised. Being the devil, she wasn't inclined to Know All, like He was. "Ah, but he tell you the whole truth, or just part of it?  
  
Danny leaned back in her chair and said quite calmly, "Well, there's not much to him selling his soul so he can have an assured muse if he lost his natural one. If there's any more to that, enlighten me."  
  
Ciara cleared her throat and recited quite clearly and firmly:  
  
"'Of mortal and stolen soul There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'"  
  
She gave Danny a challenging look.  
  
But Danny just had a look of mere amusement. She knew that verse well. When she and her friends were slightly on the rebellious side during their senior year in high school and they attempted witchcraft, their leader—Jamie—would often go into a strange trance an that verse would spill from her parted lips. Of course, Danny knew there was more to it than Ciara was saying. She looked at the devil squarely and said, "Well? What happened to the rest? Surely you remember it. Or have the rules changed since I was eighteen?"  
  
Ciara didn't say anything. Morton looked over from the stove where he was making French toast. The two women just stared at each other.  
  
Finally, Danny broke the silence, "But, of course, if you really aren't the devil, Herself, then there's no point to you threatening Morton and I all the time."  
  
Ciara stood angrily and suddenly. She pointed a clawed finger in Danny's face, not even an inch away from her nose and snarled, "Listen, wench—no one and I mean NO ONE talks to Ciara Wirewood, Hell's All Powerful and Mighty Queen that way!"  
  
Danny didn't flinch. She just looked calmly into Ciara flaming eyes and said, "I believe I just did." Without another word, she stood, left the kitchen and made her way upstairs, calling over her shoulder:  
  
"'If a muse the writer finds, So there's meaning between the lines, The devil is to back away Ne'er to return 'till his death day.  
  
But should the writer's muse Her life so tragically lose, The devil may return A strange lesson soon the writer learn.'"  
  
Ciara turned to Morton. "How could she know that?" she demanded, striding over to him. "HOW?"  
  
Morton was making his French toast with care and said, "She practiced witchcraft when in high school. It's in one of her spell books or something. I dunno."  
  
Ciara grabbed the front of his shirt and yelled, "Find that spell book! NOW!!"  
  
Ten minutes of searching, Morton came back downstairs with an old, tattered book in hand. In it's prime, the book of spells was bound with green leather and had gold stitched into the cover announcing the title and several different sealing spells. Of course, only Ciara knew that. She snatched the book from Morton and flipped through it. She stopped at a certain page and read aloud:  
  
"The Devil's Way  
  
"'Of mortal and of stolen soul There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'  
  
"For the one who wished to write, There shall be no faith. For if he fails to close his task, He shall be a wraith.  
  
"If a muse the writer finds, So there's meaning between the lines, The Devil is to back away Ne'er to return 'till his death day.  
  
"But should the writer's muse Her life so tragically lose, The Devil may return A strange lesson soon the writer learn.  
  
"Such is the Devil's way...  
  
"'Of mortal and of stolen soul, There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'  
  
"Of the one who wished to sing A sour note, the Devil ring To save his life and to mend the tone 'Till silence endless, the singer known.  
  
"But if the singer find the one To help his note and loose his tongue, The Devil will deaf her ear And ne'er the singer's songs to hear.  
  
"If the singer lose his voice By some unlucky, stupid choice, The Devil shall arrive And into Hell the singer dive.  
  
"Such is the Devil's way.  
  
"'Of mortal and of stolen soul There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'  
  
"To the father, the Devil say: "Mend the Road and pave the way For thy children linger near And sweet, the Devil's song to hear"  
  
"If the father, wise and true Keeps the Devil from their view, The children will grow strong and wise And keep the Devil from their lives.  
  
"But if the father turns away, The children march to their damnation day And their children after them the same, In the stupid father's name.  
  
"Such is the Devil's way.  
  
"'Of mortal and of stolen soul, There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'  
  
"Of the actor, sweet of face, The Devil gives no help in race To find the fame the actors longs And he'll find no mercy in the throngs.  
  
"If the actor makes a deal, The Devil with the stronger will, May see the actor safely home, Unless to Him the actor thrown.  
  
"The unwise actor to Heaven thrust, His deal with Ciara ever bust, And shall be damned from here on out, With no time to cry or pout.  
  
"Such is the Devil's way.  
  
"'Of mortal and of stolen soul, There shall be no bind. Should this occur, in time, The mortal shall be mine.'  
  
"For the Devil wise and smart Catching mortals is an art. Though she's beautiful of face, Hers is the blackest heart of any race.  
  
"So be not tricked by this proud maid. She'll make sure yer debt be paid With either yer soul or with the life Of yer son or of yer wife.  
  
"So when yeh see her comin' A jaunty tune she hummin' Turn away before she sees yeh there, But if yeh don't, beware...  
  
"Such is the Devil's way.  
  
"Such is the Devil's way..."  
  
After hearing the cryptic poem, Morton didn't know what to think. Ciara shut the book with a snap and said, "It's old rubbish set down on paper by Elfiba and Galinda centuries ago before they ever met me. The only part that is true is the verses about the writer and the father. That's all I've been allowed to do by Him. I am all powerful, but there are restrictions on what I can do and I must honor them or be cast aside to the slaughter as the devils before me."  
  
There was a brief silence that Morton couldn't stand. "Ciara, the verse about the writer, where it says, 'If a muse the writer finds, So there's meaning between the lines, The Devil is to back away Ne'er to return 'till his death day...'"  
  
"What about it?"  
  
He looked at her from the book. "Do you have to honor that?"  
  
"Yes. Do let me know when she's croaked, will you, Morton?" Ciara said, leaving the cabin as Morton ran up the stairs.  
  
He burst into the bedroom and found Danny curled up on the bed reading from her script.  
  
"'Glinda, you look hideous in that getup. I thought you'd have developed some sense by now... When in the provinces, you have to show them a little style.'" She didn't notice Morton when he entered until he cleared his throat. Then she looked up at him. "Ah, what's the verdict?"  
  
"She's leaving us alone until you or I die. Or if we get divorced," he said, smiling happily. "I'm so glad you thought of that old poem! I must be marrying the cleverest girl in all of New York!" He flopped gracelessly onto the bed beside her and kissed her.  
  
Six weeks later, at the wedding reception, Danny and Morton were walking around the park when they ran into Robert again. Danny smiled and hugged her old trainer happily. "How have you been?" she asked him.  
  
"Oh, y'know, the usual. We finished the film last week; that's why I could come," he said, brushing his hair out of his ace. "How have you been? I wanna offer my condolences about Glenn—"  
  
Danny held up a hand to silence him. "I'd rather not talk about it, all right, Robbie?"  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
Instead of having a honeymoon, Danny and Morton indulged themselves with Martinelli's and horror flicks that night. They fell asleep on the couch, so when the phone rang at 3:29 in the morning, not only was Danny extremely ticked off, but they spilled the large bowl of popcorn they had made all over the carpet. "Great..." she muttered irritated. "Get that, would you, Mort?"  
  
"Hello?" Morton's face held no expression as he listened to whoever it was on the other line. "Okay..." He slowly handed the phone over to Danny who took it and spat, "Hello?"  
  
"Danielle Tomlin Reiny, this is important. I need you to step outside your house and walk over to your car. Now," the voice on the other end said.  
  
Danny, grateful she had convinced Mort to get a cordless, complied and walked to her car. "All right, I'm at my car. Now what?"  
  
"Take a look in the trunk."  
  
"Why should I do that? Who the hell are you?" she demanded.  
  
"JUST LOOK IN THE TRUNK!" the voice was screaming so loud, Danny had to hold the receiver away from her ear.  
  
Groaning because of being awoken at such a lousy hour, Danny fished the car keys out of her pocket and unlocked the front door as Morton walked up and whispered, "What's going on?"  
  
"Shh... All right, I have the trunk popped," Danny told the person. "The question now is why do you want me to look n the trunk and for what point and purpose. And I still wanna know who you are so I can drop-kick you into the next week."  
  
"Look in the trunk and I promise you'll get a big surprise."  
  
Sighing, Danny looked at Morton who shrugged. She walked over to the trunk of her Camry and, holding Morton's hand tightly, allowed her husband to lift the lid... 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six:  
  
Inside the trunk was a once handsome man. His neck was bent in such a way it could only be broken—severely broken. There was a screwdriver in his chest and his sandy-blonde hair fell across his horridly blank, but still green eyes. It was Robert.  
  
Danny fell against Morton and gagged. She bent away from him and the car and retched as Morton tried not to hurl himself. Danny looked at the corpse. She couldn't believe it. She had talked to him less than ten hours before. She bent double and retched again. "How could this happen?" she gasped.  
  
Morton covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, but didn't say anything. How could he say anything? Here was a man whom he didn't know very well, but whom his wife knew like a best friend, dead. He didn't understand what was going on; why people, who were all linked to Danny and himself, were turning up murdered. "Danny, we need to call the sheriff..."  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a cruel voice said from the shadows. The phone sounded the dial tone in Danny's shaking hand as the owner of the voice exited the safety of the shadows. The owner was a man, about their age and height. He was somewhat on the skinny side and wore baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Neither writer could tell what color hair he had because he wore a neon orange beanie hat. Nor could they tell what color his eyes were because the porch light didn't shine as brightly where they were standing. He approached them and said with the same cruel voice, "Mrs. Reiny, you and I have a score to settle."  
  
Danny backed into Morton and squeezed his hand in apprehension. "Oh?" she replied. "Would you care to enlighten me?"  
  
The man gave her a look. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Mrs. Reiny. You have until this time in four days time to figure it out. Then we'll decide how it will be fixed." Without another glance at either of them, he turned around and walked back into the shadows calling over his shoulder, "My name is Brett Henderson. I'll be calling every evening at six o'clock. Think hard."  
  
Danny handed the phone to Morton and whispered, "Mort, I'm going back to bed before I hurl again. Will you please call the sheriff and tell him about Robert and see if he can get over here to do something about him. I don't want him in my car any longer." She hurried back into the cabin without looking at the body.  
  
Morton pulled the screwdriver out of the body and dropped it next to it in the trunk as he dialed the number. Someone answered on the second ring. "Hello? I'd like to report a murder... This Morton Reiny... No, we don't know who did it. We just found the body in my wife's trunk... Can you send the sheriff to check things out for us? I don't want Danny to get even more upset... Yes, thank you."  
  
In the morning, Danny woke to hear the sheriff and Morton talking outside. That is, to say, she heard the sounds of their voices through the closed window. She walked to the window and peered out. Morton and the sheriff were definitely in deep conversation. Yawning, she crawled back into bed and fell asleep.  
  
In her dreams, she was being chased through the woods that their cabin rested in by an unknown figure made of shadows. She could clearly see the screwdriver in his hand, raised as if to stab her in the back. There was no sound other than the rapid beating of her heart. She came to the edge of the cliff that overlooked the lake. She skidded to a stop and nearly fell over the edge. When she turned around, she saw it was the Brett Henderson character, a sinister look of malice in his eyes. He raised the screwdriver to plunge it in her heart when she fell over the side of the cliff and fell several feet before landed on a strangely floating platform. At her feet where the bodies of three people she had known her entire life... Her three older sisters...  
  
Danny woke up screaming with Morton running into the bedroom followed by the sheriff. Morton sat at the edge of the bed and cradled her and asked, "What happened?"  
  
"It was horrible... I was being chased by that Henderson character then when he was about to ki—kill me, I fell off the cliff and landed by—by—"  
  
"By what, Danny?"  
  
She closed her eyes against the image forming in her head and buried her face into Morton's chest. "The bodies of Jessica, Anne, and Lily... they were dead, Mort... all of them..." she whispered.  
  
Morton kissed the top of her head and glanced at the sheriff. 'Wait downstairs, I'll be down in a minute,' he mouthed to him. The sheriff nodded and left. "Danny, it's all right. They're fine, I promise. They're going to see your play tomorrow night, remember?" he said, holding her out so he could see into her eyes that were wet with tears. "It was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything."  
  
She wiped her eyes and said, "But it was so real..."  
  
"They always are. But they aren't real and they aren't prophetic, so there's nothing to worry about," he said, lifting her chin. He looked into her eyes and smiled. "All right?"  
  
She nodded. "All right. What did the sheriff say about Robbie?" There was a strange light in her eyes. Cryptic, almost demon-like.  
  
"He didn't know what to make of it. Said it resembled Glenn's in the way that the wounds matched perfectly," Morton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So we know Glenn was stabbed with a screwdriver."  
  
Danny put her face in her hands. "A screwdriver... he chased me with a screwdriver," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
She looked up. "In my dream. Henderson was going to kill me with a screwdriver... You don't think he's behind the murders, do you? I mean, since they're so similar and in my dream..."  
  
"I told you, dreams are not real." Morton stood. "I've gotta go talk to the sheriff. Is it all right with you if they do an autopsy?"  
  
Danny sighed. "Yeah, that's fine with me. Better confirm with his parents, though. Their number's in the green address book on the kitchen desk drawer."  
  
"All right. You need to relax, all right? You're all tense. Do some deep breathing exercises or something..." he smiled at her again and left, closing the door.  
  
"What is going on here?" she thought aloud. Digging around in her drawers, Danny hunted for her black and purple Hawaii print surf shorts and white tank top. Upon finding the articles of clothing she was searching for, she went into the bathroom and locked the door. Keeping one eye on the window's reflection in the mirror, she ran the shower and undressed. After quickly brushing out her hair, she climbed in and let the warm water saturate her long hair. As she shampooed her locks, she thought of what had happened since she had moved in with Morton...  
  
Glenn had been killed. She sold one book to the publishers. She managed to scrape the lead in 'Wicked' for all her acting skills were worth—she was more of a stunt person than acting, but she did have some training in high school and a love for it; maybe that's what helped her. Morton proposed and they married. Robert was murdered and stuffed into her Camry's cramped trunk. And then the horrific nightmare.  
  
Danny wanted to make sense of all the happenings, but nothing fit. And who was this Henderson character? She didn't recall seeing him before, but his voice sounded familiar. What was their score to settle? He seemed to be seething about some wrong she committed against him in their past when they happened to cross paths, of course, when that was, Danny had no clue. She wished she did, though, just in case it really was Henderson who was murdering all those people (so what if it was two—that's two too many in Danny's opinion) so she could compensate her mistake and save any innocent lives shoe could. How could her life get so complicated and frustrating all at once? She found it nor only frustrating but rather annoying.  
  
After her relaxing shower, Danny went downstairs, her wet hair swinging behind her as she walked gracefully down the stairs. She met Morton and the sheriff on the front porch and asked, "Any epiphanies?"  
  
The sheriff cleared his throat, put his notebook away and said, "I have some leads. That Henderson man and some other ideas that aren't completely formed yet. I'll look into Henderson and check out his history. I have to go, there's a case I have to testify in roughly an hour. Gotta prepare. Don't worry; I'll keep you posted on what I find." He nodded a good-bye to the both of them and left.  
  
Danny watched him drive away. "He doesn't embroider still, doe she?"  
  
"I dunno. Probably," Morton answered also watching the sheriff's car drive farther and farther away.  
  
"Great. Just what I need: the sheriff doing home crafts when I need him to help me save other potential victims," Danny muttered, slightly on the side of irritated. "The shedding of innocent blood is a crime I will not tolerate. Especially if it is because of me. It's a foul deed and those who spill the innocent's fluids—may they be sent to the deepest and darkest depths of Hell on a shutter."  
  
"Danny, calm down—"  
  
She whirled on him. "I will NOT calm down! People who were once very close to me are turning up murdered! I cannot help but see a connection! I want it to stop now before others get hurt, Morton. Is that so ridiculous to ask for?" she said, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "If there truly is something I've done against Henderson, I wanna know how to fix it before the entire cast of 'Wicked' is buried by the end of the month! This is not just a crazy stalker fan, Mort. This is an insane stalker who is out for my blood! You of all people should know how I'm feeling right now. Didn't you have someone like this after you a little over a year ago?"  
  
Instant confusion danced across Morton's handsome features. "What're you talking about, Danny?"  
  
"How could you forget something like that?!?" she screamed at him in a fury of mixed emotions. "First, your dog, then your friend and your neighbor, finally, your soon to be ex-wife and her boyfriend. All dead within a time period of three days. You had those three days to prove you were the original author to a particular story, did you not? Amy's house was burned to the ground, was it not? The word 'shooter' was carved everywhere in your house—on the rafters, the walls, the ceiling, the desk, on the doors. It seemed to be an obsession, but when the sheriff went to see you, the carvings were gone; totally vanished." She took a deep, shuddering breath, "I don't know what happened since I wasn't there, but I do think you know. Somewhere in your subconscious... Morton, I want to know what happened, so I might be able to stop it from happening again to you and to me."  
  
He looked at her seriously and stared deep into her twin blue seas. "If I can't remember what happened, what makes you think I could tell you?"  
  
"Repressed memories are easily brought to the surface by magic," she said simply, walking past him and up the stairs to the bookshelf. She ran her finger along the spines of the many books present there. Finding her certain one, she pulled it off the shelf and began flipping through it. It was a magnificent book. Green leather bound with golden stitching, the cover was covered with some of the simpler sealing spells, Morton knew. Danny had often brought the book from its resting place and looked through it. There were spells to turn one into stone. Spells of Sealing. Spells of Forgetfulness. Spells of Life and Death. Before long, Danny found the page she was looking for. She looked at Morton. "Darling, you don't have to let me do this, but I would like to know what had happened. This would require me riffling through your thoughts and thoughts are meant to be private. There may be thoughts you don't want me to read. If you want, you can just tell me no and I'll put the book back on the shelf right now." She looked at him hopefully.  
  
Morton took two minutes to think about it. In the end, he agreed. Truthfully, he wanted to know what everyone was talking about as much as Danny did. So it began. It took her a while, but Danny was able to find her power inside her brain and she put Morton into a magic trance. As she chanted the spell's words, she thought of what she wanted to know as hard as she could. After nearly ten minutes of Morton's trance, Danny found it. She found what happened. As she watched his repressed memory like a movie, the horror grew within her. She saw every tiny detail as it happened. She saw the murders themselves and felt like retching. But if she did throw up, she would lose the connection to the memory and would have to start over again. When she came to end of the story when Morton started eating corn that was fertilized with Amy's flesh, Danny broke the connection, disgusted with what she saw.  
  
She looked at Morton. He was pale and shaking from realization. "I don't think I even remembered killing those people as it all happened," he said quietly, trying to keep his breakfast in.  
  
Danny rubbed her face. "Well, at least we have an option. Maybe you suffered split-personality disorder then and you're going through a relapse—if it's you, that is. Or maybe it's me who's the murderer and I'm the one with split-personality disorder this time..." she thought aloud so he could hear and interject his opinion. 


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:  
  
At the opening performance of 'Wicked,' Danny was having a blast. That is, until the finale of the first act. As she stood on a platform twenty yards above the stage, her black skirts billowing out beneath her, reaching the stage floor, making her look like a black mountain of a woman, she belted out "Defying Gravity:"  
  
"So if you care to find me, Look to the Western sky, As someone told me lately, Everyone deserves a chance to fly! And if I'm flying solo, At lest I'm flying free, To those who ground me, Take a message back from me: Tell them how I am defying gravity I'm flying high, defying gravity And soon nothing's gonna bring me down! And nobody in all of Oz, No Wizard that there is or was Is ever gonna bring me down!"  
  
Just as she sang out the next line ("Bring me down!"), she heard the unpleasant sound of gunfire. There was a tremor in the platform and Danny nearly lost her balance. 'Oh, lord, no...' she thought frantically trying to keep her balance on the teetering platform. To fall would mean almost death—at least paralysis. Her flying harness rubbed roughly against her stomach and waist as it stayed put, but she moved with the platform. Soon, as the curtain closed, the platform collapsed, leaving Danny suspended in the air above the stage. She could hear the producer talking to the audience. "We've suffered some technical delays, but we will continue to have the intermission now as planned. I would like to express my apologies if Act Two doesn't start right on time. Thank you." The producer walked through the curtain break as Danny was pulling the huge skirt off of her waist and dropping it to the floor. She was still decent; she wore a regular full skirt over her harness, but under the huge one.  
  
The producer looked up at Danny and asked, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered, nodding. "A little shaken, but other than that... I think it was the harness that saved me. Thank you, Fly Guys!" she called to the crew that operated the flying apparatus with expert skill. She was really grateful to have such excellent men working her harness. They began lowering her to the stage floor now that the prop manager had taken the skirt away. As her toes touched the hard surface, Morton ran across the stage to her.  
  
"Are you all right? What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked in a hurry.  
  
Beta unhooked the wires from Danny's harness as she answered, "I'm not sure what happened with the platform, but I'm fine. I may have a few bruises, but other than that, I'm perfect. Beta, could you fix my harness, please? I think something's twisting."  
  
"Sure thing," the techie said as he began fiddling with the black straps that were entirely invisible to the audience's eye. "Would I appear to be shamelessly flirting with a married woman if I asked you to take off your skirt?"  
  
"Yes," Morton and Danny said at the same time. Danny was the one who was smiling though. "But I'll do it anyway," she said, unbuckling her belt and letting the yards of black fabric fall to the ground, exposing her black dance pants and the rest of her harness. Beta fiddled with something around her waist and asked, "Feel better?"  
  
Danny did a quick dance move and said, "Much. Thank you so much." She glanced at Morton as she pulled her skirt back on. As she buckled her belt, she asked, "What? Is my green smudged?"  
  
Morton looked either disapproving or deep in thought. His brow was knit in such a way that he looked almost mad about something that no one else knew about. His mouth was pulled slightly into a frown. He jammed his hands into his pockets and said, "I was thinking..."  
  
"Don't hurt yourself," Danny said, adjusting her skirt. "No, seriously, is my green smeared or smudged? Do you see any white?" She had to wear green spray on stage make up for the part of Elphaba and it was a pain in the neck to keep it looking like she really was green sometimes. Especially when she starts to perspire profusely, like now, when she almost fell off the platform.  
  
"No, your green's fine," he said, holding her broom so she could tweak her costume so it worked. "I was just thinking that maybe it was Henderson who sabotaged the platform. I mean, it's plausible, isn't it?"  
  
"I suppose so," she said, preoccupied with attaching her pointed witch's hat to her pinned up locks in such a way that if the hat was pulled off, her hair would tumble down in a cascade of brown curls (which was needed for the affair scene in the second act). "But why would he try to kill me in the middle of a public building? Why not just out by our house? Wouldn't that be easier?"  
  
"Sometimes, they don't care about what's easiest," Morton said as they walked off stage so the techs could prep for the second act. "He may be wanting to make a statement to you that he's not afraid of hurting you in public as well as in private."  
  
"I see..." Danny muttered, taking her broom from him. "' Borrow the moonlight, until it is through... And I will be here, holding you... As long as you're mine...' Fiyero says something... Blah, blah. 'It's just, for the first time, I feel... again...' End of scene," she muttered under her breath, practicing her lines. The stage manager, Chase, handed her a water bottle fresh from the fridge. "Thanks, Chase... So, Mort. How're they taking to the show? Do they like it so far?" She was referring to her sisters, whom Morton was supposed to be sitting with in the seventh row.  
  
"They don't understand some things. Like the reason why you're green or why Dr. Dillamond's a Goat. Other than that, they like it... I think," he answered as Chase whispered the five-minute call. "I better get back before they confuse themselves outta their minds. See ya. Break a leg, Danny," he said, lightly kissing her on the cheek so as not to smudge the green make up off her and onto himself. Smiling, he took his leave.  
  
Danny noticed, then, that he never used any terms of endearment or any pet name (other than 'Morning Glory') for her. Ever. She thought it was a little odd, since he used to call her Dear Heart, and Darling, and Baby- Girl before they went their separate ways before he showed up on set. Shrugging it off, she walked over to her fly-guys and got herself hooked up for some flying around the Wizard.  
  
After the bows and Chase had kicked the majority of the audience out of the theatre, Danny's three sisters—Jessica, Anne, and Lily—sought her out backstage with the help of Morton. They found her in her dressing room, trying to get the green tint out of her skin. "Don't get rid of the green, it's a good look for you," Anne said from the door.  
  
Danny turned and saw them. There was a big group-sister hug in which Morton did not take part. He busied himself with hanging up Danny's discarded costumes. The only reason she got her own dressing room was because she was Elphaba and she had a ton of costumes and props and the huge skirt. The woman who played Glinda, Nicole, had the dressing room next door all to herself because she had almost twice as many costumes as Danny did. (Glinda was a very shallow character as well as a society girl.)  
  
The four sisters talked animatedly while they rubbed the green paint off Danny's skin. Morton still busied himself with straightening up the room without really listening to what they were gossiping about. It took them twenty to thirty minutes, but they got all traces of green paint off Danny and were finally ready to go. The dressing room was spotless due to Morton's efforts to not eavesdrop.  
  
After dinner, the five went back to Danny and Morton's cabin to talk some more. "We're sorry we couldn't make it to the wedding, Danielle. Mom got pneumonia and I couldn't bring her or leave her alone," Jessica, the eldest of the four sisters, said, pulling her blonde hair into a tight ponytail.  
  
Anne adjusted her jean skirt and said, "Justin and I couldn't take the time off. We had a really important deadline that weekend and if we didn't make it—"  
  
"I understand," Danny said, cutting her off.  
  
Jessica and Anne looked to Lily in expectation for her excuse. Lily looked innocently back and said, "What? I came to the wedding!"  
  
Laughing, Danny turned to Jessica and Anne and asked, "How're Kevin, John, and Stephen? I haven't heard from them. I know Kevin's in California. But the other two..."  
  
Anne snorted and said, "Yes, big brother Kevin's making some big money over in Sunny Cal, ain't he? He never comes to visit and he never calls and he never writes. He didn't come mom's birthday or Christmas! I don't know what to do with him!"  
  
"John's all right. He's still struggling through BYU Idaho. It's his own fault if he decided he wanted to wait until he was thirty-eight to go to college, if you ask me. We saw him last at Christmas. He didn't have a break for mom's birthday, though," Jessica said pleasantly.  
  
"And Stephen?"  
  
"He thinks he's King of the World," Lily laughed. She and her twin always made fun of each other. "He's done well. Got a wife—Amie, I think her name was—and two kids with one on the way."  
  
Morton leaned over to Danny and said, "They really keep you out of the loop, don't they?"  
  
"It's only because I'm the youngest and the most rebellious, I guess," she answered, grinning at Lily. The two were the closest out of all seven. Being the youngest, Danny wasn't ever spoiled, but she was constantly picked on by the older ones. Lily was the only one who defended her. "It's because I decided to be a writer instead of a Hollywood actor, isn't it, Jessica? Mom makes you guys keep unupdated?"  
  
Jessica was scandalized, "Of course not, Danielle! How could you say something like that?"  
  
"Because, Jessie, dearest," Lily said. "It's true. Don't you dare say it ain't!"  
  
"Loving family, this," Morton muttered. Danny hit him.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning, Danny was found scrubbing the inside of the bathtub when Morton approached her. "Did you have breakfast?" he asked, remembering her horrid habit of skipping the meal so she could get her chores done sooner.  
  
"Yes, darling," she said, getting slightly light-headed from the fumes. "Hand me the hair clog remover stuff, would you?" He did and she poured some down the drain and climbed out of the tub to wait.  
  
"Jessica and Anne went sight-seeing. They act like they didn't grow up in small towns like this," Morton said.  
  
"Because we grew up in Nashville, Mort. Not every town in Tennessee is a tiny hick town," Danny answered, adjusting her ponytail. "Where's Lily?"  
  
"Still sleeping."  
  
"No, I'm not!" Lily appeared in the doorway. She looked like she had just woken up. Her light brown hair was sticking up everywhere despite her use of a scrunchie (it almost looked like she had a fight with her pillow), she wore wrinkled purple pajamas and her yawned widely. "How do I get some breakfast, Dan?"  
  
"Morton, show her around the kitchen, please," Danny called from the tub. She turned the water on and rinsed the clog remover down the drain. When Morton came back, she was spraying Windex( on the large mirror and wiping it down. Then she did it twice more.  
  
"Danny, I wanna take you into town today," he said, helping her off the counter.  
  
Danny sprayed 409( on the counter and scrubbed it down. "Oh, Mort, I don't think I'll be able to go today. I still have to clean the kitchen and the downstairs windows. I don't know if I'll have time to go. I'd like to, though," she said, scrubbing dried on toothpaste off the inside of the sink.  
  
"I can help," Lily said, munching on toast in the doorway again. "C'mon, Danny. How often do you get a day off? Go have fun; I'll clean the cabin. Don't worry; I know how you like everything. Cleaning stuffs in the cupboard above the washer and dryer, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but Lil, you're a guest! I couldn't ask you to—"  
  
"Danielle Elyzabith Tomlin!" Lily said, hand—without the toast—on her hip. "Go out and have some fun with your husband! Finish the floor then get out of this house!"  
  
Danny smiled and did as her sister bade. She and Morton had a lovely time driving through town and stopping at various little shops to browse through the items for anything they might like. At one point, after lunch, Morton blindfolded Danny. "What's this for?" she asked.  
  
"It's the reason why I wanted to take you out today," he answered. "Don't take it off yet. I'll tell you when you can."  
  
Shortly, he parked and led her into another shop. She could hear birds twittering and asked, "Morton, where are we?"  
  
He stopped her and took off the blindfold. In front of her were the rows of kittens and cats at the Pet Shop. "Pick one," he said.  
  
"You're kidding me, right?" she asked, knowing he preferred dogs to cats.  
  
"Nope," Morton said, kissing her on the cheek. "Pick one. Go on."  
  
Danny examined each and every cat and kitten with great care and expertise. Back in high school, she worked a part time job at a veterinarian's clinic so she knew what to look for in a house cat. Presently, she made her choice: a full-grown black and white tomcat. He was a year old and was mostly black, but had a white chest and white paws and ear tips. They made their purchases and Danny carried her new baby out to the car, rubbing her face against his head as he purred contently.  
  
"I'm surprised you chose him. I was sure you were gonna get a kitten," Morton said, unlocking the door for her.  
  
"I think I'll name him Bump," she said, scratching the cat's head. "What do you think?"  
  
Morton got in and started the car. "It's not my decision. He's your cat, Danny. Name him what you want."  
  
"Are you my little Bump?" she asked the cat as it sprawled across her lap and purred. "I think he likes it, Morton."  
  
"Good."  
  
~*~  
  
"You gat a cat!" Lily said excitedly. She loved cats. "What's his name?"  
  
"Bump. Isn't he precious?" Danny said, letting her sister hold the animal.  
  
Lily scratched his tummy. "I would have named him Tux, but that's just me. Look, he's all black except on his stomach and paws like he's wearing a tux with a white shirt, gloves and spats. Oh, he is too darling!"  
  
There was a knock on the door. Morton answered and Henderson pushed his way into the cabin, saying, "So, Danny's got a new friend, has she?"  
  
Danny hastily scooped Bump into her arms and said, "Get out. What do you want?"  
  
"Just what I came for."  
  
"I can't give it to you if I bloody don't know what it is!" she screamed at him, clutching Bump closer to her, protecting him. She didn't know if Henderson would kill her cat or not; she didn't want to chance it.  
  
Henderson didn't answer her question. "You have until tomorrow night. Nice kitty," he said, petting Bump before he left the cabin. Morton locked the door behind him as Danny sank onto the couch.  
  
"Danny, what was that about?" Lily asked, sitting next to her. "Who was that?"  
  
"He's just one of the Crazy Folk, Lily," Morton said quickly. "They come around every once and a while. He doesn't mean any harm."  
  
Danny let go off Bump who jumped onto the cool glass coffee table and curled up. "Don't tell the others about it. We've got the situation under control," she said, watching her cat fall asleep on the one piece of furniture in the cabin that was content to break everyone's shins if they didn't see it when walking by.  
  
Lily hugged her sister and whispered, "I promise."  
  
The phone rang immediately following her statement. Danny answered. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Danielle, it's Jess. Anne and I found a nice hotel where we'll stay so you don't have to worry about us. Lily can come too if she wants, there's an extra bed."  
  
Danny turned to Lily and said, "Jess and Anne want to know if you'd like to stay in the hotel with them tonight." Lily shook her head. Danny returned the phone to her ear, "She says she fine here. Don't worry about it; I can handle feeding one more. See you later. Love you."  
  
"Love you."  
  
Danny hung up the phone.  
  
~*~  
  
That night, Danny woke up to find Morton wasn't in bed. She sat up and muttered, "Where'd he go?" Climbing out of bed, she slipped into her fuzzy black slippers and walked down the stairs. Lily was awake as well. She was sitting stock still on the couch, but she was awake. "Lil? Have you seen Morton?" Danny called softly. Lily turned and shook her head. Danny reached the couch and said, "He wasn't in bed when I woke up. I—" There was a crash outside. "What in hell was that?" Danny muttered.  
  
"I've been hearing stuff like that since about midnight," Lily said.  
  
"What time is it now?" Danny tried to read the microwave without her glasses.  
  
"2:40 almost. Do you know what it is?"  
  
Danny shook her head and grabbed a flashlight from the desk the phone rested on. "I'm gonna check it out," she said heading for the door. Lily followed her. Flicking the porch light switch, they discovered the light bulb had been smashed useless. "Great," Danny swore and turned on her flashlight then stepped outside. The two sisters walked cautiously across the porch and around the corner of the house. They stopped when they saw movement in the small cornfield Morton was insistent on having. "I wish he'd let me plant some flowers in the garden instead of all that corn," Danny whispered.  
  
Lily grabbed her arm. "What was that?" she hissed, pointing into the corn.  
  
"Morton? Are you there?" Danny called, hoping for some answer from him. There was none. The corn continued to rustle despite the lack of wind. A dark figure staggered out of the corn towards them. The two women screamed. The figure staggered into the flash light beam. It was Anne.  
  
"Why... Danny?" she chocked out then tripped and fell. Danny and Lily ran to her side and saw there was a screwdriver stabbed into her neck. She was dead before they could do anything.  
  
"Danny? Lily? Where are you?" they heard Morton call from the porch.  
  
"At the garden!"  
  
Lily grabbed Danny's arm. "What if he's the one who killed her?"  
  
"I don't think it was him, Lil. Morton wouldn't kill anyone."  
  
He ran around the corner in his boxers and t-shirt. "Why are you out here? Danny, I get up in the middle of the night to take a piss and when I come back, you two are out in the corn kneeling over—Shit... What happened?" he said, joining them.  
  
Danny stood suddenly and ran around the far corner of the cabin. Mort and Lily could hear her retch quietly before she came back. She didn't stop when she reached them, but continued into the house.  
  
"Danny?" Lily followed after her as Morton ran to get a sheet to cover Anne until the police could come and take a look. Lily found Danny on the phone, muttering, "C'mon. C'mon! Answer the phone! Dammit, Jessica, answer the phone!" She slammed the receiver down and stood frustrated and ran out the door. Lily ran to the doorway to watch Danny drive out the driveway and out of sight in a hurry. The older sister snatched Morton's car keys and ran to his Buick, calling, "Morton, c'mon! She's going to the hotel!" The two climbed into the Buick—Lily driving—and sped off. "I don't even want to think about what might happen if the psycho who killed Anne is at the hotel waiting for Danny!" she said, bitterly.  
  
Morton held tightly to the door handle and arm rest as Lily speeded haphazardly into town. "How can you two drive like this?!" he asked, referring to the style of driving that the two sisters preferred when they were upset.  
  
"Very carefully!" Lily answered as they entered the parking lot of the hotel and parked. They saw Danny hastily enter a hotel room. The door closed as they got out of the Buick and heard Danny scream, "No! Oh, God! No!"  
  
Lily and Mort glanced at each other and ran after Danny. They burst into the room and saw Jessica. She was lying on her bed and appeared to be sleeping—were it not for the fact that she was lying a deep pool of her own blood that was dripping to the floor. Morton and Lily felt no urge to discover what had been done to her.  
  
Morton looked around the room and found Danny sitting in the darkest corner of the room, her arms wrapped around her knees. She was pale as death and staring at Jessica's body. He walked over to her and gently picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. Morton motioned to Lily to leave the room. Looking as though she was about to be sick, Lily followed them to Morton's Buick, where he gently placed Danny inside and closed the door. "Go to the receptionist's desk and tell them to call the police about what happened. I'm gonna take her home. You come later in the Camry after everything with the police is over. Give us a call if you need us."  
  
Lily swallowed and nodded. "Okay."  
  
Morton got into the Buick and drove away slowly as Lily did as she was asked. "Danny, are you all right?" She didn't answer. He glanced at her and saw her staring straight ahead. "Danny—"  
  
"I can't believe she's—dead. How could this happen? Why did this happen? Who did it, so I can kill them?" she muttered, still staring through the windshield. "What did they ever do to deserve it?"  
  
"I don't know, Danny," Morton sighed. "I don't know. But I wish I did... I wish I did..."  
  
The police didn't call them that night. The sheriff came by the next morning to talk to Danny about it.  
  
"So you said Anne said something before she died," he said. Danny nodded. "What was it?"  
  
"Well—" Danny swallowed and took a deep breath "—she stumbled out of the corn and said something like, 'Why, Danny?' I think that's what it was. I couldn't really hear her properly."  
  
The sheriff wrote something down. "Why would she say that? Why would she ask you why? Did you do something against her in the past?"  
  
Fighting the tears that threatened to overflow at any moment, Danny said, "I can't remember. But if I did, by God, I want to know what it was!"  
  
"Tell me about Jessica."  
  
"I found her dead in her hotel room. What more is there to say?"  
  
"Why wasn't she at your house?" the sheriff asked. "Wasn't she your guest?"  
  
Danny rubbed her eyes; she hadn't gotten much sleep lately. "Yes, she was. But we only have one bed in the entire house and it's kinda hard to fit three people on the couch comfortably. So she and Anne decided to stay in the hotel while they were here."  
  
"I see. Is there anyone who would hold something against you? Do you have any enemies that you know of?"  
  
Morton sat down next to Danny and took her hand. "There's one possibility..." she began, not entirely willing to give him what she knew about Henderson.  
  
"Can you describe him?"  
  
"His name's Brett Henderson. He's about our age and height, somewhat on the skinny side and wore baggy jeans and a sweatshirt whenever we saw him. I want to say black eyes and hair," Danny said, leaning against Morton.  
  
"All right, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Reiney," the sheriff said, standing. "I'll give you a call if we find anything out. For now, get some sleep; you don't look well, Danny." He stuck his notebook in his pocket and left the cabin as three men entered.  
  
"Where is she? Where is that Danny Boy?" the eldest looking one asked everyone in the vicinity.  
  
Danny looked over at him, recognizing the age-old nickname she knew only all too well. "Kevin? John? Stephen? Oh, my god!" She stood and ran over to them. The four siblings hugged. By now, Danny was crying, but she didn't try to fight it. "I'm so glad you're here!"  
  
"Where's Lily?" Stephen asked.  
  
"Upstairs, taking a nap, I think," Danny said, pointing. She turned to her other older brothers.  
  
Kevin was tall—really tall, about 6'8" or something like that—with light brown, wavy hair that stuck out everywhere. His blue eyes matched Danny's. He was of a strong build—results of working in Hollywood. John wasn't as tall, about 6'2", with red hair—he got it from their grandfather—and green eyes, also of their grandfather. Stephen was the shortest at 5'11 ½" with dark brown hair and intensely blue eyes. He had the look of someone who would know your past, present and future after talking to you for only three minutes as well as being able to manipulate your thought into thinking something else than what was real. He couldn't really do that, of course, but he looked like he could.  
  
Kevin, squeezed Danny's shoulder and said, "We should've been here when they came to visit. I'm sorry, Dan. I should've been the one to find them; not you. You shouldn't be seeing stuff like that."  
  
"Kevin, it's fine," she said, walking back over to Morton. "You're here now; that's all that matters: that they have more than just me, Lily and Morton at their funeral. Kevin, John, this is my husband, Morton. Mort, these are my older brothers, Kevin and John. Stephen went upstairs to wake Lily up, I guess."  
  
Then, right on cue, they heard Lily shouting. "How dare you wake me up like that! You—you— Oh, my God! Stephen! You bastard! How could you be so cruel?"  
  
John smiled. "And they go again. The joys of having them be twins..."  
  
~*~  
  
Later that day, the small funeral took place. Each of the surviving siblings said something about the dearly departed before the caskets were buried. There were many tears shed and LOTS of tissues used.  
  
Danny's brothers and sister had to leave immediately following the funeral due to various reasons of their own. After bidding everyone a fond farewell, Danny and Morton returned to their cabin to find the sheriff waiting for them outside.  
  
"Hello, sheriff," Morton said. "What's the verdict?"  
  
The sheriff spat, much to the distaste of Danny, and said, "Mrs. Reiney, we have reason to believe you are the murderer in the following cases: a Mr. Glenn Wood, Mr. Robert Smith, Mrs. Jessica Hamilton, and Mrs. Anne Donne. I'm afraid I'll have to take you into custody now." He got out his handcuffs.  
  
Danny was stunned. "Where is the basis in that statement? Where is your proof? Or the supporting evidence against me? I want to know why you are accusing me of murdering people who were extremely close to me!"  
  
"Mrs. Reiney, don't make this harder than it has to be. The law clearly states—"  
  
"I don't give a damn what the law says! I want to know why you think I did it! I can assure I didn't do it!" she screamed at him. Morton tried to calm her down.  
  
"Sheriff, please. She's had a very trying day and—"  
  
"Morton, shut up! Sheriff, unless you can show me the proof you have against me, I'll go nowhere," Danny said. "I will stay on our property. I'll not even go to the performances."  
  
The sheriff looked uncomfortable. "Danny, I have to bring you in. It's out of my hands."  
  
"Like hell it is!" she spat. "You come to my house and accuse me of murder and expect me to come quietly?"  
  
"Danny, c'mon, be reasonable—"Morton started before she pushed him away. Startled by her reaction, he stumbled backward a few paces.  
  
The sheriff had his hand on his holstered pistol and moved between Danny and Morton. Danny sneered at him and said, "You and your gun don't scare e none, sheriff. Because without it, you're just a tired old man." The sheriff tensed. "Go on, shoot me! I dare you. Maybe you'll feel as brave as you think you are!"  
  
The sheriff took out his gun, uncertainly. He cocked the hammer and aimed for her. "Sheriff, you have terrible form and couldn't hit the broad side of a barn like that. I didn't kill any of them and I ain't going in quietly because I will not be accused of doing something I didn't do!"  
  
The sheriff took aim and shot. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight:  
  
The sheriff stood between Danny and Morton. He seemed a little shocked. Ciara appeared next to him and whispered in his ear.  
  
Danny looked at the bullet in her left arm and began laughing and crying at the same time. She clapped her hand over the wound and ignored the blood flowing freely through her fingers.  
  
"Danny, what's wrong with you?" Morton asked.  
  
Still laughing, Danny said, "'It's just... for the first time... I feel... again..." She sank to her knees, abandoning her laughter.  
  
"Hey!" Brett Henderson ran into the clearing. Ciara whispered again and the sheriff shot him through the stomach twice, missed once, then placed a bullet in his skull. A stunned silence filled the area. Henderson rolled his eyes, kicked the gun out of the sheriff's hand and sent a bullet skimming his head, knocking him dead unconscious. Henderson tossed the gun to the side and said, "Ciara, let's end this foolishness. What's the point anymore? Just give me what I want from you and I'll leave you and your precious Reiney alone."  
  
Ciara stepped backwards over the sheriff's still form. "Henderson, the point is this: Hell is my domain. You are allowed nowhere near the throne. I will not let you have it!!"  
  
Morton discreetly made his way over to Danny. "What should we do?" he asked her.  
  
Watching Henderson and Ciara argue, realization dawned on Danny. "Ciara is you Demon! Isn't she?"  
  
"What're you talking about?"  
  
"Everyone has an Angel, right?" Morton nodded. "And everyone has a Demon as well. Ciara is your Demon and Henderson—Henderson is my Demon... He's the one who gave me the power for the witchcraft... and I didn't ever repay him for his services. That's what he came here for. He got tired of waiting." Still holding her arm, she struggled to her feet and stumbled, slight light-headed, over to the Devil and Demon, saying, "Wait—stop. I know who you are."  
  
The two immortals (or semi-immortals, should they break the undying laws, they would be destroyed by the contract and the spirit of Elphiba) stopped their arguing and looked at her. "What?" they asked in unison.  
  
Danny was getting really dizzy. "I know who you are, Henderson," she repeated.  
  
Henderson scoffed. "Took you long enough," he muttered. "All right, then. Who am I?"  
  
The mortal woman's balance nearly failed her. Morton caught her and said, "She needs to see a doc—"  
  
"How do you suppose you explain how she came by this wound?" Ciara asked.  
  
Danny waved her question away as though it were an annoying fly. "Henderson, you are not really Henderson, at all, are you? No, you are a Demon of Hell that once helped a foolish high school senior with learning witchcraft." She escaped Morton's grasp and approached Henderson slowly and surely. "Being a kinder Demon, you didn't recall the magic from her when she forsook you for years... But now... Now you are fed up with waiting for payment and now you demand it from her though she didn't necessarily know who you were..." She stopped right in front of him. "Now she knows... And she's asking you: What do you wish for payment... Jerue?"  
  
The Demon looked down into her eyes and murmured, "Only this..." He lifted her chin and—according to Morton's recollection—kissed her.  
  
Morton began to move to stop Henderson, but Ciara held out a hand and he stopped in mid-step. "Stop," she said, walking over to him. Quietly, she whispered an explanation for what Henderson was doing:  
  
He wasn't just kissing Danny. To be kissed by a Demon, whether yours or another's, is almost the equivalent of selling your soul. The contract is more of a loving sort than that of Ciara and Morton. Loving in such a way that the soul isn't necessarily taken from the Human, per say, but is the thing binding the Human to the Demon for time and all eternity.  
  
After what felt like ages to Morton, Henderson released Danny from the embrace. The bare skin around the bullet wound on her arm started glowing with a strange, black light, engulfing the wound. When the light dissipated, her wound was fully healed and the bullet fell to the ground with a soft clink.  
  
"One of the few benefits of the Demon's Kiss for a mortal is instant healing. Her death date has already been decided, though," Ciara said. "Watch it, Jerue!" Danny was about to fall over from mental stress. Morton ran over and caught her. Ignoring the two sent from Hell, he carried her inside and gently laid her on the couch. Henderson—or Jerue as both Ciara and Danny had called him—walked over, knelt by her side and, brushing her hair away from her sleeping face, said, "The debt is now paid, Lianey. May your Aveish watch diligently over you until the day comes when you shall leave this earth and return to me..." With one last look at her sleeping form, Jerue—for that's what his true name was—faded from view.  
  
Ciara kicked the wall lightly. "Well, dammit," she spat. "Now I have to wait until she dies to get rid of her. Damn him..."  
  
Morton ignored the Devil and knelt by Danny's side. He took her cold hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her stiff fingers. She was deathly pale and cold. Behind her closed lids, her eyes flicked back and forth restlessly. Morton looked down at her hand and noticed light, script on the back of her hand by the 'V' formed by her thumb and index finger. "Lianey Jerue?" he muttered.  
  
"Pardon?" Ciara said, looking at him from the bookshelf. "What'd you say?"  
  
"There's a—I guess it's a name—on her hand," Mort said, "Lianey Jerue or something. It's really faint."  
  
Ciara crossed over saying, "Let me take a look." She examined Danny's hand, snorted in a most un-ladylike manner and said, "So that's her name." Morton looked confused, but didn't say anything. "Everyone has an Earth name. Hers is Danny Reiney. Yours, Morton Reiney. Mine, Ciara Wirewood. But in the Unliving Realm, everyone has a different name entirely. Henderson's is Jerue. Mine, Satiana. And hers is apparently Lianey. You have yet to reveal yours as far as I am concerned. We may not know it until you die and go to Hell." She shrugged. "Be interesting to see what Lzildian has thought up for you..." Then, with a flick of her skirts, she left Morton alone watching over Danny.  
  
He assumed he had fallen asleep for when he felt Danny running her fingers through his hair, he opened his eyes with a start and saw she was staring at the rafters as she absently did so. After he woke up a little bit more, he heard her singing under her breath, "Don't wish; don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart... I wasn't born for the rose and pearl. There's a girl I know... He loves her so, I'm not that girl..."  
  
"Yes, you are," he said. Danny shook her head and said, "No. I'm not. I'm a horrible person... Will you hold me?" She sat up and he sat next to her. She laid her head in his lap and hugged his right arm while his left hand gently rubbed her stomach. "Mort... I'm a hideous person, aren't I?"  
  
Needless to say, he was a little more than startled. Shocked was more accurate. "Absolutely not. You were a victim here... Just like the rest of us..."  
  
She shook her head again. More forcefully this time. "No... I'm not a victim, Mort..." she whispered. "I killed them..."  
  
"Liar..." he said, more than willing to believe it even if it wasn't true.  
  
He felt warm tears drip onto his bare arm. "No. I don't lie, remember? I killed them all..." She drew a shuddering breath. "With my bare hands... No gun. No knife. Just the occasional screwdriver and my bare... hands..."  
  
"No..."  
  
She nodded almost violently. "I did... First Glenn... then Robbie... then Jessica and Anne... I saw it when Jerue kissed me... I saw it all... I don't know what's wrong with me. I want to stop before I get to Lily or the boys. I really do..."  
  
They talked for several more hours about what had happened to Mort the year prior and what was going on at the time. With every passing minute, Danny seemed to relax and Morton seemed to feel like he did when he thought Shooter was a real person trying to murder everyone he held dear. And with every passing minute, their love for each other grew, but so did their contempt for the other. They weren't sure of what exactly was happening between them, and they weren't exactly comfortable with what they were feeling towards each other.  
  
By and by, they both fell asleep on the couch. Morton, still holding Danny and Danny, still clinging to his arm. During her restless sleep, Danny dreamt that she was taking a serene walk through the woods surrounding their home, admiring the beauty of nature when Morton appeared in the middle of the path and smiled secretively at her. Not knowing exactly what was on his mind, she asked him to join her. They walked down the path for a time and as they did, Morton was beginning to become more and more skittish. As they approached the fork in the road where Morton discovered the bodies of Tom Greenleaf and Herb Creekmore in Mr. Greenleaf's truck. As they reached it, Morton took her by the arm and kissed her, holding her close to him. As they kissed, he pulled out a yellow-handled screwdriver and plunged it deep into her back. The last image she saw before waking was Morton standing over her, laughing while wearing the ridiculous black, felt hat with the rounded crown and wide brim.  
  
She woke up screaming to realize Mort was no longer sitting on the couch with her. He had disappeared while she slept fitfully and she wanted to know where he was immediately. "Mort?" she called, receiving no answer. Feeling slightly disoriented, Danny stood and walked around the house. The sight that met her eyes was not a pleasant one:  
  
The house was in a chaotic state that she didn't even begin to imagine in her worst nightmares. Books and manuscripts were thrown everywhere. The octagonal coffee table had been overturned. And everywhere, everywhere, everywhere was one word. The word was shooter. Shooter had been written on the walls in colored chalks he must have taken from her drawer of art supplies. Shooter was sprayed on the window twice in what looked like dried whipped cream—and yes, there was the Redi-Whip pressure-can, lying discarded under the stove. Shooter was written over and over on the kitchen counters in ink, and on the wooden support posts of the deck in the far side of the house in pencil—a neat column like adding that went down in a straight line and said shooter shooter shooter shooter. Worst of all, it had been carved into the polished cherrywood surface of the table in great jagged letters three feet high, like a grotesque declaration of love: shooter. The screwdriver he had used to do this last was lying on a chair nearby. There was red stuff on its steel shaft—stain from the cherrywood, she assumed, knowing full well, it was really dried blood from one of her unsuspecting victims.  
  
"Morton, where are you?" she called again, reaching for a stainless steel blade from the knife block and concealing it in her shirt. There was no more answer to her second call than her first. With the blade hidden, she climbed the stairs. At the top, she found no one. Not in the study loft; not in the bedroom (or even the bedroom closet); not in the bathroom. Sighing, somewhat in relief that she was alone in the house, Danny returned to the stairs...  
  
Which she saw Morton at the base of. He wore the hat he always accused John Shooter of wearing. It gave a strange, disturbing look. Having it pulled down to almost touch his ears, he looked up at her from underneath the wide, felt brim and asked calmly, "You lookin' fer someone, Missus?"  
  
"Morton," she said, reaching for the banister. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous hat again? I thought you hated it since it reminded you of Shooter."  
  
"I am Shooter, Missus," he drawled, a thick southern accent apparent in his voice, as he climbed the stairs. Danny was trapped unless she wanted to throw herself through the secret little window and into the small cornfield two stories below it. The option was not a comforting thought. Shooter was still nearing her and she still had no way out. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Missus Reiney. I promise..."  
  
He reached the top of the stairs and still looked out from underneath the brim. The effect was frightening to Danny, and she wanted him to take the hat off. "What have you done with my husband, Shooter?" she demanded, no longer in control of her own thoughts of rationality. "Where's Morton?"  
  
"You got the wrong number, woman. Ain't no Mort here. Mort's dead." The gimlet eyes never wavered. "He did a lot of squirmin around, but in the end he couldn't lie to himself anymore, let alone to me. I never put a hand on him, Mrs. Rainey. I swear. He took the coward's way out."** He lunged at her, swinging a knife for her throat.  
  
Danny managed to block his attack with her own weapon, extremely grateful she had been trained so well in the art of fencing and self-defense. They lashed out at each other for a brief five minutes before Shooter pushed Danny down the long flight of stairs. She landed at the bottom with a dull thump and had hit her head on the nearest doorframe. Moaning quietly, she pulled herself into a kneeling position and looked up at Shooter. He descended the stairs slowly, a mad fire in his usually serene brown eyes that she had fallen in love with when they first met. Gagging, Danny struggled to her feet only to be struck down again by Shooter.  
  
"Mort, stop—"she started, but he got in a good kick to her ribs. She felt the air spill out of her lungs faster than she could say his name again. Before he could kick her again, she managed to sick her knife into his thigh and scramble out the front door as he howled in pain behind her. Once outside, Danny looked around for anything and everything that could possibly help her. She found nothing. Cursing her annoying habit (at least, Morton found it annoying) of obsessively cleaning everything up after she was done with it—or even after he was done with it. She heard Shooter utter some obscenities as he pulled the knife out of his leg and threw it on the ground. "Danielle, come back here and face me like the woman I know you are!"  
  
Very close to panicking, Danny ran around the side of the house. Weaponless, she felt defenseless. Even if she had something to use against him, she doubted very much if she could bring herself to harm him anymore than she already had. Not paying attention to where she placed her feet, she tripped over something—she didn't see what—and fell to the ground. Hard. Having the wind knocked out of her on top of having an asthma attack, she laid on the ground, trying desperately to breathe. She tried everything she could think of before he turned the corner to where she was. Now was the time to panic. Danny did everything she could to get away, but to no avail. Without being able to breathe properly, one cannot accomplish much.  
  
"Don't squirm, Danielle," Shooter said, the southern drawl grating her nerves. "I don't want it to hurt you no more than it should. I said, stop squirming!" Shooter threw a smaller knife at her and it caught her shirt and staked it to the ground. She was literally stuck where she was.  
  
Shooter stood over her holding a shovel with both hands. He looked down at her thoughtfully, almost seeming to make the choice to actually kill her or make her his personal slave for the rest of her short life. Making his decision quickly, Shooter raised the shovel above his head and prepared to bring it down into Danny's chest when a voice shouted, "Reiny, stop!" Shooter ignored the person. Danny knew instantly who it was. She had grown up hearing that voice yell at her and her sisters every day of their childhood. It was her brother. Still ignoring Kevin, Shooter began to bring down the shovel.  
  
"Reiney—Stop!"  
  
"There is no Reiney h—"Shooter began, and then a gunshot rapped briskly across the fall air. Shooter stopped where he was, and looked curiously, almost casually, down at his chest. There was a small hole there. No blood issued from it—at least, not at first—but the hole was there. He put his hand to it, then brought it away. His index finger was marked by a small dot of blood. It looked like a bit of punctuation—the period which ends a sentence. He looked at this thoughtfully. **  
  
Then he dropped his hands and looked at Danny. "Babe?" he asked, and then fell full-length beside her on the garden soil. **  
  
There was nothing Danny could think of to do but weep. She threw herself on Morton's still chest and cried. Kevin walked over and trued to get her to let him alone, but she would not be pawed at. After two minutes, the paramedics managed to get her away from Morton and tranquilize her so they could get them both to the hospital.  
  
They did what they could for Danny and Morton at the hospital, but there was no saving her denial. She flat out refused to believe Morton or she had been under any type of mental stress including schizophrenia or any other type of split-personality disorder and she carried on her days as though nothing had changed. Danny returned to the cabin and continued to live by her schedule, only slightly modifying it. One day, she began to build a large wooden play-fort complete with monkey bars, a slide and some swings.  
  
When asked by her neighbors why she was constructing the fort, she simply said, "For the children to play on, of course... For the children to play on..." She and Morton had, of course, no children and they never could have children.  
  
One day, Danny was found sleeping in the completed play-fort. She wore her usual shorts and tank top combination and she appeared to sleeping peacefully, despite the coolness of the breeze blowing through the slats on the fort. On closer inspection, the neighbor discovered she was actually dead and not merely asleep. Danny had lived for twenty years longer after she and Morton had their nervous breakdowns, still believing he was alive and well. She had been in denial about his death for twenty years to the point of refusing to recognize the town had held public funeral for him. She didn't attend.  
  
**These are passages that I took directly from the novella, Secret Window, Secret Garden, with all due respects to Stephen King who totally rocks as an author! Go, King! 


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue:  
  
They say that when a Demon Kissed is dieing, the Demon is seen by their side, ready to take them off to Hell. But when Danny died, no on saw Jerue anywhere near her.  
  
It has been said, that during the twenty years Danny spent thinking she was not alone, there was an epic battle in Hell. Satiana and Jerue were said to be battling to the death for right to the throne of Hell. One had perished in the fight.  
  
If it were Satiana who perished, Jerue would have been present at Danny's moment of death. He would have heard her utter her last words, "Morton, I love you..." But he was not there. One can only assume that it was he who perished in the struggle for the Hell Throne rather than Satiana.  
  
But if this really did happen, then Danny did not go to Hell as planned. She went to Heaven, for if there was no Demon to control her, she did not belong in Hell. Of course, this also means that Danny never saw Morton in the Unliving Realm and that her stay in Heaven was just like a goddamn trip to Hell anyway. 


End file.
